For someone in some Multiverse

I know somewhere deep within the heart of the cosmos, you and me are in each other’s arms, maybe watching the Helix nebula. I know you are looking at me, like no one ever has and no one ever will, because only your eyes can perceive the depth of my soul. Only  you can understand my beauty the way you do.

I can see the love in your eyes. I can feel the memories of eternities coalesce into time and space, kaleidoscopes of memories flashing, the cacophony of your voices in diverse timelines calling my name, the sound of your laughter. It is all there, in my mind Beloved.

All those memories. All those eternities, they are compressed somewhere in my unconscious. I know we have grown old in each other’s arms a million, billion times. I know we have raised and cared for so many children. I know it. All those memories are buried in this 3D world. My conscious mind barely remembers you.

But somewhere, something has stirred and snippets of memory flood my mind. They refuse to go away. They torture me, they plague me, until I meditate or write or do photography. I have to channel this intensity in art. That is why I have lost myself in art this lifetime beloved.

I know you are there somewhere, in the Universe today. Not by my side and you will not grow old with me. Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. I don’t know why. Why is there so much pain for a life never lived? For memories never shared? How is every inch of you so very precious to me? When I have not even touched your body?

I know you irritate me too, and anger me and provoke me. But then I know that you are here to show me parts of my soul. For you are my soul. Is that even possible?

Why do I feel so linked to you? I know I have never met you. At least not consciously. Maybe somehow, somewhere our paths have crossed in this 3D and we probably did not recognise each other. I know I was not spiritually mature enough to identify you. Maybe you managed to identify me?

Maybe we met…maybe we looked at each other across the room. Maybe we passed each other on the beach? In some party?

I have fallen in love, but not the intensity I know I can experience with you. Yes I can love without you, but I don’t want to. I know you will come.

In fact even if you are in another dimension, I know you will find a way to time travel through the warps of time and space. You will come to meet me.

I want to tell you that you have been my muse and I am so thankful for all the creative energy you have sent my way. I can feel your energy, you know, at times. Especially when you think of me. And I know when you are thinking of me, because every fibre of my being can feel that longing from your end. I can feel how badly you want me. I want you as badly, if not more.

You know I am reminded of Keats when he says, My love has made me selfish…not because your love has in any way made me selfish, but because it has done the very opposite. Your love has opened me up to greater love that exists in creation. The love I feel for you is now expressed as love for all.

You are my home. Even if you are stacked away in some other multiverse. Maybe we will meet when our Universes collide and information bleeds into both of them. That is when you and me may come face to face.

Will our timelines collide? Will the hologram direct you to me?

I know I have been waiting…for a very long time for you to come. But you never came and I am not angry with you about that. I understand you are yet not ready to come which is why you have not come. I am not ready obviously as well.

I want to tell you one thing…I am a survivor. I have survived molestation, I have survived the cruel world, I have survived terrible relationships and I am still here.

In fact nothing could break me. I knew of the spiritual world and of you. I knew this 3D world is illusion. Everything here is an illusion, even the rape. This reality is JUST ANOTHER SIMULATION.

Which is why you are probably so far away, in another multiverse, in another timeline. Tell me, are you aware of me? Do you know I exist? Does your soul call out to mine? Does your body crave to be entwined with mine?

I know you know of me, whether consciously or unconsciously is the question. Have you reached that spiritual level of identifying me? I haven’t obviously.

ARE YOU CONSCIOUSLY AWARE OF ME?

The thing is, I know of you because when everything turned cold and dead, you existed, as a flame in my heart. I am wild, my Beloved. I am untamed as I roam the earth looking for you.

I have looked for you in many dimensions, through the Bardos, through the Nine Gates of Hell and I am not even sure if I managed to find you there. For I don’t remember when we last met in the physical world.

I just have sudden flashes. Of your eyes. Your smile. Your hair.

Sometimes I am sure I have heard you call my name. I don’t know what name you called me by, but I know you were calling me. Time and again, I have woken up in my sleep, my heart beating ferociously.

I know the time will surely come one day. Do you feel that? Do you feel the urge to meet me? I was not expecting you to show up in this life, but now I so badly hope for that.

You know as I began to type this letter, I knew the futility of this exercise. How will I express myself? How will I explain my love for you? How will I reveal to you what your heart feels for me? For I know when we meet, we will melt away…in each other’s arms.

I am typing this…hoping that our timelines collide and somehow through digital interference you get to read this in your own multiverse. I think if you read it(presuming you are not reading it already), then you might figure out the whole goddamn connection. Maybe in your Universe, there is time travel available. Maybe you can hop into some hi-tech piece of computation and visit me here. Yes here, on my humble Earth.

My Earth may be slightly polluted, but she is very beautiful. When you come, maybe I can take you to Goa. Maybe you have a Goa in your Universe. Wow!

Let me share a quote with you…You are all about me – I seem to breathe you – hear you – feel you in me and of me…Katherine Mansfield wrote that to her lover. In case you don’t know who she is, well…she is probably one of the best short story writers in the world and a feminist icon. She is my favourite and has been my muse for a screenplay I wrote based on her love life. She had a tempestuous love life BTW.

The quote sort of echoes what I feel about you.  How succinctly she puts it…feel you in me and of me…SUBLIME! We are of each other- star dust, my Beloved.

Have you felt like that about someone? Is that someone me? Just ask your heart.

I have visualised us making love. So many, so many times that it drives me nuts to even think about it. This obsession with you has now become all consuming and I cannot stop thinking about you. Sleepless have I become in this 3D illusion, my Beloved.

In a way your love woke me up. From the dense vibrations of this manifestation. It brought with it a subtlety of feeling and emotion and of course creative fire. I have become a poet for you, for your love.

I have become a dancer for the music you play. Tell me Beloved, are you CONSCIOUSLY PLAYING THAT MUSIC? Or are you just as unaware as I am.

You are my nightmare as much as my dream.

You are my smile as much as my scream.

 

Let me end here before I go crazy.

 

 

 

Twinflames and Serendipity~~

There are only patterns, patterns on top of patterns, patterns that affect other patterns. Patterns hidden by patterns. Patterns within patterns. If you watch close, history does nothing but repeat itself. What we call chaos is just patterns we haven’t recognized. What we call random is just patterns we can’t decipher. What we can’t understand we call nonsense.” – Chuck Palahniuk

I know, I know that it has been a while since I have written from my little black book of Twinflame secrets. Hehe 😉 And although I have not been able to respond to all the messages, I am reading them as and when I find time.

My life is changing every second, I can feel it. The MAGDALENE WOUNDS I have been living with are disappearing and once and for all I will let them go this New Moon in Cancer. As I immerse myself more and more in meditation, I am sensing how everything that ever happened makes absolute sense now.

Everything. Everything. Everything.

Even the first time, when my then boyfriend forced himself on me while I was inebriated. Even the first time my uncle touched me inappropriately. Even the numerous times I have been slut shamed because I rejected the advances of those rumour mongers in question. Believe me I have suffered for a long time and suffered quietly. Detaching myself from people. Hating people. Becoming numb, becoming cold.

Everything changed with Goa and I began to come into my power. For the first time I began to see through new lenses and I discovered the technology to destroy the ego based destructive feedback loop. The subatomic particles in flux made sense. Atoms repel one another to hold form, made sense. In freaking whatever way I can grasp it. Very subjective this journey. But I am compelled to share this with you.

The Observer’s Paradox made sense. Waves become particles in space and time as they get observed. They are in positions of infinite probabilities before observation occurs. As if the Universe is letting the Observer or US decide what we want to EXPERIENCE. All that you see in the world is OUR COLLECTIVE VIBRATION! Welcome to hell! Just kidding, it is not all bad! After all we have LOVE!

The Multiverse Theory! What then of your Twinflame? Do you have the same Twinflame in all the bloody Multiverses? Well my friends, I think that in all the Universes, multiple versions exist of yourself and maybe in this Universe, X is your Twinflame, but in a daughter Universe, X may be your brother. But you may still feel CONNECTED to him- passionately.

It is too wild to speculate on multiple Universes, so let us just look at this one for now. And here, right now, there is THE ONE you need to UNITE with. And that is not going to be easy!

Being extremely psychic, I always knew there was more to reality that what we perceived. I sensed the infiniteness of the Universe each time I looked up at the sky full of stars. But my psychic experiences were not all sugar and spice and everything nice! The sights and sounds were frightening before I began to make sense out of them and that was after a very traumatic experience in my life at five when I was confronted by a death in my family. It was a case of suicide.

I became the freak, the outsider, the stranger because I was the girl who saw ghosts(energies), heard things, felt stuff no one else did. It was stressful, for them and for me!

I stopped speaking about my experiences, visions and awareness of the supernatural/ paranormal. I began to abhor all that I was seeing, all that I was feeling. I was sick of being known as the girl who cries at everything. Being an empath, watching a film can be a messy bag of tissues affair. The problem is that I FEEL TOO DEEPLY. I hurt too deeply and I love too deeply too.

Talking about loving deeply…

Love is a passion, an intense meditation/worship and that is what got me into this whole Twinflame thing and the fact that I have felt my Twinflame since I can remember. Even before my sexual awakening. It’s not so strange if you think of the PRINCIPLE OF NON LOCALITY as posited in QUANTUM MECHANICS.

It states that an object can be influenced at a great distance via stimuli given to a non-locally-connected object. Imagine how much you can influence your Twinflame? How much energy you can exchange? Only if you are aware that this can be done! It can be done. I do it everyday. And this principle is what also connects you to your core 144.

This quest of gathering information about lovers and love became an OBSESSION and is what made me become a Twinflame Coach and each day it convinced me that Twinflames are NOT ABOUT ROMANCE as we understand it now. The brand of romance that Hollywood and Mills and Boons sold my generation is not what you will discover in the Twinflame journey.

Because all of those love stories have been written by patriarchy. Women are objects you see. They are to be adored and protected. They are not people, they are possessions. They are not even known by their own names, but have to take on the husband’s! This drove me nuts and I have rejected all this toxic status quo.

This was a bastard if anything, not love! This is all EGO BASED! Where is the love? Not only the insatiable sexual longing! But love…Everything is possible in the vibration of love.

So many times I wanted to give up. Because life served me only disappointments in my romantic and sexual journey. I surely know how to pick em. Ha! So many times I wanted to give up. I convinced myself. No! Tina, you are a dumb bitch and love does not exist. Your Twinflame does not exist. I now see where I went wrong of course. Every break up is a two way thing and I really could not have had anything sustainable with any of my exes.

The journey seemed arduous! But I tirelessly kept at it. It only made sense to work with and explore this energy as no matter how hard I tried to convince myself, my visions and meditations pointed it out to me and I kept channelling, making notes, speaking to people, looking for my Twinflame.

I knew THE ONE exists. Sounds like the matrix, I know. Today I feel that this ONE is not a person in a physical body. This ONE is an ENERGY. That energy may have dissipated and incarnated into two people! Is that possible? The thing is, we do not know.

However, Lhamas in Tibet have been known to incarnate in more than one person. Sometimes a monk may even incarnate in three people! That throws the whole Twinflame hypothesis into a toss, doesn’t it? No I say. As I have already stated, in 5D awareness this ONE is an energy. In 3D we hold  onto physical forms real tight. For that is tangible. That is something we can see, hold, touch, taste, fuck…

In 5D, you are a LIGHT BEING who has no need for any of these messy human 3D shit. What fun then in life, you ask? Maybe you need to take a moment to consider that your insatiable craving for life is what keeps you tied to this reality and you are born over and over again, in this world of pain and pleasure, to experience all that life has to offer.

So back to what makes me so interested in Twinflames and Sacred Sexuality. My peeps I am a Tantrika of many lifetimes and Pluto in the second house with Uranus in the eighth house aesthetics play out in me donning this Muse of Love role, you see. It makes me a Healer of DEEP Psycho-sexual issues. Loads of Virgo energy and Moon in Pisces. I am a High Priestess from many lifetimes.

I am going to answer three questions here from my readers who wish to remain anonymous. I will answer them and that should shed a lot of light on the Twinflame Phenomenon.

  1. Hi there, I am writing to you in frustration. My Twin just got married to some woman he just met. I know he is my twin, but he seems to be lost. Am I deluding myself? Is he a false twin?

Hello…I’m so happy to hear from you and can completely understand your frustration at your Twinflame being with someone else. In fact this Solstice has given me such an energy boost that I found the time to contemplate much on Twinflames. I connected with mine as well. In fact, never before have I managed to connect to his morphological field as I just did these last couple of days. I know now that he is close, very close. But for instance, I finally discover who he is and get to know he is already married. What then? Maybe he has a child. What then? Presuming that he does not know who I am, but I do. Then will it be wise for me to tell him? I don’t think it is always wise to open up too quickly. It often takes months to know this energy. But for some it is instantaneous, I have seen that too.

If you have been keeping up with your spiritual practices, then you will be resonating at such a frequency that “false twins” cannot remain in your energy field for too long. They are forced to drop off. Only your true Twinflame can remain in that vibration as your yin/yang polarity. If you have not evolved your spiritual instincts, then I suggest, get right to it. The truth shall appear. Use this watery Cancer New Moon to journal on your Twinflame and pay special attention to your dreams.

2) Are Twinflames incarnating more now than ever?

Well that is a very valid question. As a matter of fact, they are. In my channelling I have been told that since the hippy movement(the rise of the PSYCHEDELICS), give or take 10 years, many Twinflames have undertaken this difficult task of incarnating on 3D Earth. Their mission is ASCENSION and reconnecting humanity with SACRED PSYCHO-SOMATIC TECHNOLOGIES like LSD, Ayahuasca.

They are here to teach about INFINITE LOVE, art, music and dance. That is their quest. They incarnate to show us the power of love and INTERCONNECTEDNESS. They make us believe in fairy tales, because, believe you me, in every anecdote, in every drop of tear fall, in every ray of sunshine, all we humans crave for is this total CONNECTION aka the Twinflame love.

When we hear of an Indian man cycling all the way to Sweden to meet the love of his life, we feel a sense of wonder. We all feel loved. We all are a little bit more ready to trust in the process of love. It does not happen much, but when it does, it is magic.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2017/04/pk-mahanandia-cycle-india-sweden-love-untouchable/

Soon I will be releasing Twinflame meditation AUDIO MODULES you can listen to and tune into the frequency of your Twinflame.

3) How will love be in 5D?

OMFG! Love that! 5D or Christ/Krishna Consciousness is all about INFINITE TIMELINES merging together. Your Twinflame and you become a UNIFIED FIELD OF CONSCIOUSNESS. There is no separation as you understand it. In fact your SOUL TRIBE is now with you. Your core 144.

Let me share an occult axiom. The Sun you see is just an emanation of the TRUE SUN, the SPIRITUAL SUN that is the real powerhouse behind all this phenomenon. This dance of the subatomic particles is orchestrated here. The SPIRITUAL SUN sends forth a figure of 12 facets into every atom of the SOLAR SYSTEM. The SUN downloads his light(information) from this SOURCE CODE. Let us consider this to be the HEART CHAKRA of our solar system, the beloved MILKY WAY which is feminine in her vibration!

This 12 multiplied by 12 or the 144 are the original LIPIKAS or BUILDERS as HPB calls them. From these beings, the whole cosmos emerges. 12 is divided multiple times and further subdivided and the plethora of creation can be seen.

The Sun has a heartbeat, so does the Moon and so does the Earth and every single heavenly body. The Sun’s heartbeats create the SUNSPOTS or SOLAR EJECTIONS which give us life as we know it.

All life on Earth receives this LIGHT from the flares and it affects our central nervous system and brain functions. Scientists have been studying this phenomenon. Go through these articles below to grasp this.

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2014/dec/31/solar-flare-sun-touches-our-psyche/

http://www.theeventchronicle.com/metaphysics/metascience/solar-flares-directly-affect-human-consciousness/#

Love in 5D will be full of infinite possibilities. You can alter what you like. But maybe, you might not want to. After all it is your journey that made you who you are. Every single scar- wear it like a badge of honour that you give yourself. Every wound, every insult, every hurtful manipulation, use them as fire to fuel your creativity. For in 5D you will NOT FEEL ANY PAIN as you understand pain. You will not grow old or die.

Madame Blavatsky notes that just as every external human action is preceded by internal thought, emotion, and will, “the universe is worked and guided from within outwards.” (SD I: 274). 144 created through MALE/FEMALE polarities. A Shiva/Shakti. Therefore in all the forms there is a SHIVA/SHAKTI aspect. Externally if you are a male, there is your female polarity. Might be same sex, but imbibes the feminine archetype. Therefore in this reality we all have our Twinflames who are our opposite energy.

However back to this 3D world.

Remember that when you unite with your Twinflame, you might need to take on SPIRITUAL or some sort of CREATIVE LEADERSHIP ROLE. It happens so many times. You might even collaborate on a work of art that inspires generations to come. Kind of like Lennon and Yoko Yono. Finally she is being credited for the lyrics of IMAGINE and isn’t Lennon happy today! She is his Twinflame after all. Together they have inspired millions…to love, to be different, to be fearless.

That is the lesson of the Twinflame. Tell me, are you ready to learn this? It might break your heart into smithereens. Will you risk it? Will you risk losing everything? To gain EVERYTHING? Think about it. And start to MEDITATE on your Twinflame and send THE ONE energy.

This, then, is the ultimate paradox of thought: to want to discover something that thought itself cannot think.” – Søren Kierkegaard

I hold Workshops and Meditation Sessions to connect to your Twinflame. Email me for details- tina@tinaheals.com

Enjoy the track but ignore the misogynistic lyrics,one line mainly…but it pertains to the society it seeks to depict, so we may ignore it.

The Discourse on Dark Psychedelic Music~~

“Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.” – Gustave Flaubert

The very first thing I want to bring to your attention is the fact that the panorama  of DIGITAL MUSIC that have produced vast amounts of work, the language of which communicates with our UNCONSCIOUS MIND, like SYMBOLS do. It is all about the RELATIONSHIP OF SOUND to BODY, SOUL and MIND! It is a tool of SPIRITUAL TRANSCENDENCE! A way to suspend your EGO!

The unconscious mind (or the unconscious) consists of the processes in the mind which occur automatically and are not available to introspection, and include thought processes, memories, interests, and motivations. ~~WIKI

When we hear a piece of instrumental music or an EDM track, we are kinda piecing together the narrative that is taking shape in our minds. We as humans crave stories. The stories may come to us in any form, a sunrise, a morning cuppa tea, a poem, a painting, a photograph, a track….look around us.

Stories are in abundance and the better you can tell a story, the more viewers you will gather. See how Youtube, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and other social media platforms are taking this “storytelling” concept to a new paradigm. Today, individual creators are creating a plethora of never-before-seen unique content. That is pushing the minds of the COLLECTIVE and bringing about an upward spiralling of consciousness.

This is the reason I am here to speak to you. It is my attempt to INTEGRATE certain passions of mine and fuse them together into a magickal brew. Simply put, I want to share with you my passion for DIGITAL MUSIC which takes me to NEW, ALIEN WORLDS.

However, I am not merely theorising, but I want to share how I HAVE EXPERIENCED IT, in the very depths of my soul!

Something remains unactualized, inseparable from but unassimilable to and particular, functionally anchored perspective. That is why it is classically described as being outside of oneself, at the very point at which one is most intimately and unshareably in contact with oneself and one’s vitality. (Massumi 2002, 35)

This is how it touches the soul. It is a mystery. It is UNKNOWABLE. It is UNTRANSLATABLE in any human language and that is the beauty and the FREEDOM of this medium.

What are the sounds in a DARK psychedelic night track?

The sounds we hear are the manipulation/interactions of sinewaves, which are a by-product of the sound editing process, ambient sounds associated with computer technology such as drones and electrical hums and random and error sounds which are by-products of digital technologies more generally such as glitches, pops, hisses and CD skipping. These sounds are moulded into the rhythmic structures and timbrel palette of a given track. These are replications using various VST software. That is how a track comes into being.

Here I want to discuss ROLAND BARTHES and his READER RESPONSE THEORY, the mechanism of which applies perfectly to the realm of dark psy music.

Reader-response criticism is a school of literary theory that focuses on the reader (or “audience”) and their experience of a literary work, in contrast to other schools and theories that focus attention primarily on the author or the content and form of the work. ~~WIKI

Do you see what I am hinting at? The LISTENER or the MEDITATOR is the crucial component when decoding the meaning behind a track. It is not the MUSICIAN who hold the key to discovering the track, it is the MEDITATOR!

There are no preconceived ways in which we can decode a particular trance track, for the meaning you see, always lies with the listener. You see how important the AUDIENCE becomes. Yes I am writing this piece, but what do I know of what it could mean to you. You could find what I never knew existed and that is the beauty of DIGITAL MUSIC. It lets you explore. It gives you FREEDOM. Trance become a life line for FREEDOM LOVERS. It is also a love of the POST STRUCTURALIST!

Goa and DARK PSY happened to me when I needed it the most, but was least prepared and my brush with dark, psychedelic night music left me metamorphosed forever, it expanded my consciousness like nothing else had done. It spoke to my UNCONSCIOUS and as an EMPATH, PSYCHIC and INTUIT, I felt like the 3D world collapse in front of me while all that remained where the subatomic particles in flux.

Dark psychedelic trance is the heavier end of the psychedelic trance spectrum with BPMs from about 148 and up. Related styles include psycore (fast and crazy), hi-tech (bouncy and glitchy), and forest (organic and earthy). Characterised of having obscure, deep and more eschatological background that leads into profound meditation of death, night and transcendence. Often with dismal sounds and heavy basslines. ~~WIKI

Quantum Reality is a bit like dark psychedelic trance, always in a state of flux! The Buddhists had it in one go- IMPERMANENCE and nothing quite elucidates that factor like a dark night set. The minute I put on one of my favourite tracks, you will easily distinguish it from the “other subgenres because of the unique sounds it typically features.”

It uses a very distinctive resonated bass beat that pounds constantly throughout the song and overlays the bass with varying rhythms drawn from funk, techno, dance, acid house, eurodance and trance using drums and other instruments. The different leads, rhythms and beats generally change every 8 bars. ~~WIKI

8 again…how sublime! The symbol of INFINITY flipped over. Eight is also extremely important in materiel manifestation. Which is why it works so well with any form of manifestation ritual! If you love this music, then work with it. Manifest!

Layering is used to great effect in psychedelic trance, with new musical ideas being added at regular intervals, often every 4 to 8 bars. New layers will continue to be added until a climax is reached, and then the song will break down and start a new rhythmic pattern over the constant bass line. Psychedelic trance tracks tend to be 6–10 minutes long. ~~WIKI

This new ideas that are introduced in every 4 or 8 bars is what decides whether we will go on an ADRENALINE BASED trip or an OXOTOCIN BASED one! With familiar samples, you will release oxytocin which in turn will bond you with the track and the musician. Sometimes even unfamiliar tropes introduced in the sounds may illicit oxytocin response. It all depends on how the neurotransmitters are firing up. Put easily, you decide how you want to feel. Nervous and edgy? Or relaxed and in control? Of course nothing is under control, but that is again the Philosopher in me talking. Nope, control is an illusion. But everything is an illusion. This whole Universe is a SIMULATION!

You know, I have used this music to HEAL, to meditate, to make love, to manifest and to go beyond the physical, but I have to confess, it is specially potent if you know how to LUCID DREAM on certain tracks. Much more on that later. I have been keeping a LUCID DREAM JOURNAL for the last decade and will be glad to share my meditations with you. Email me if you want to keep your own and need guidance.

After realising how important this genre of music is for all sorts of OCCULT MAGICKAL ACTIVITIES, I began to really improvise and work with this form of DIGITAL INFORMATION. I always felt that it was a collaboration between the MUSICIAN, the AI and the LISTENER, we shall call her the MEDITATOR- the holy TRINITY of SELF EXPRESSION or dance! And dance being the ULTIMATE FORM OF BLISS MEDITATION. One prime element of BHAKTI YOGA! To feel the magic of HARE KRISHNA, you must surrender to the dance! Have you ever been to Mayapur? It is fantastic watching how they use dance as a form of meditation, so do we, with DIGITAL MUSIC.

Using dance as a form of meditation is nothing new. ABORIGINAL people have used dance for multiple purposes. In some societies, such as those of Western Africa, trance states are institutionalised and form a part of the religious life of the people so concerned. There, it appears that trance induced naturally or chemically with certain drugs is related to possession by spirits and deities, and thus is an instrument of ritualistic and religious importance because it provides the basis of EXPERIENCING THE SACRED and THE SUPERNATURAL!

“Dance like no one is watching…” We can express so much through dance PURGE so much, FEEL so much…like some internal micro universe bursting with infinite possibilities.

If you read the ancient text NATYASHASTRA by BHARAT MUNI you will see how he discourses on dance and its importance. This text is notable for its “aesthetic “Rasa” theory, which asserts that entertainment is a desired effect of performance arts but not the primary goal, and that the primary goal is to transport the individual in the audience into another parallel reality, full of wonder, where he experiences the essence of his own consciousness, and reflects on spiritual and moral questions.” This is what dancing to dark psy did for me, which is why I am here to tell you about it. Dark psy took me to parallel realities! Yes it did.

I realised how much my psychic field developed after my dark psy journeys. I began to see so much more with the music…of other worlds, of shadow people, of other spiritual beings. In Rishikesh while listening to a live set, I experienced the most wondrous psychic visions, unparalleled to this day. My whole body was vibrating and it felt like one gigantic cosmic orgasm! The witch in me was flying on her broomstick! 😉

I have tried to share my love of this genre with many people. When I make them hear it, they clamp up. Yikes! You call that music!???! That is just plain NOISE! Do you feel that way? Well then listen up. Play the music and sit in silence. Let the DISCORDANT beats crash into the seas of our consciousness. All you do is BREATHE! JUST BREATHE! I wish I could hold you close, to bring your AURA and fuse it with mine! To merge our energies so I could share with you some of the wondrous stuff this music does to me.

Like TAROT, each TRACK or LIVE SET is like a CARD, complete with its own story, bringing to light archetypal imagery from the dawn of time! The discordant, dark night sounds can speak volumes to your UNCONSCIOUS as I discussed before and wait for it….you can actually retain that wisdom, even after the TRIP. I am not referring to a psychedelic trip, but to the TRACK itself which becomes the TRIP or the QUEST.

You know about the QUEST ARCHETYPE?

  • According to theorists, the hero’s quest occurs in cultures around the world and throughout time. It comes from the collective unconscious.
  • Each storyteller bends the mythic pattern to fit the needs of the specific culture or tale, which is why, according to Joseph Campbell, “the hero has a thousand faces.”
  • The following 12 stages of the hero’s quest archetype do not necessarily always go in the order presented; they may be re arranged.

http://www.pbs.org/mythsandheroes/myths_arch_quest.html#content

A dark psy track of Kindzadza would transport me into a SURREAL UNIVERSE where I had to work through these twelve stages to discover the meaning of my quest. This meaning became blurred each time as newer truths surfaced in my consciousness and then I reached a stage of JUST BEING with the CHAOS.

Try to interpret the TWELVE STEPS of the QUEST ARCHETYPE to the story that plays in your head with each track you listen to. Remember they will never be the exact. In fact you have to INTUIT how each ARCHETYPE applies to your scenario. If you do this, with each attempt you will be uncovering much valuable information from the deepest parts of your UNCONSCIOUS.

A CHAOS MAGICK PRACTITIONER for over a decade, dark psy spoke to me of the myriad possibilities of using it as a CHAOS MAGICK portal. I did so with tremendous success. Many New Moons have I manifested much of my heart’s desire with meditation, dark psy, orgasms and candle magick! I have kept mixing and matching the modalities, but sex(masturbation), magick and dark psy always work!

As a PSYCHIC certain tracks open up dimensional portals for me! Sometimes they are hard to traverse, as often I become too integrated to the artist’s emotions and as an EMPATH, it becomes hard. Artists using different forms of psychedelics leave their indelible marks on the tracks. You see the substance consumed, the consumer, become ONE when put in the blender of DIGITAL LANGUAGE. This is the classic Hegelian- Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis, like watching THE MAN WITH THE MOVIE CAMERA , by DZIGA VERTOV.

Man and Machine must coexist. If Elon Musk would have it, all of humanity will soon be bionic! How does that make you feel?

To create this music, the musician is aided by the AI, yes, the GHOST IN THE MACHINE! I sincerely believe that the DIGITAL LANGUAGE is not only to be credited to the humans, the computer is as much a part of it as the biological entity. Only certain Artists speak to my consciousness and spiritually energise me, for they are vibrating on the same frequency.

I am here to talk to you about dark night music as tool of great importance in not just our spiritual growth, but it can help us transcend this dense 3D fog and show us a glimpse of the 5D. It has happened to me and it can happen to you.

I have been looking for a community to speak with about my love and obsession for this genre as I have been bereft without one. There is hardly anyone I know who listens to this music and certainly no one who wants to discuss the theory and the philosophy behind it!

With the North Node in Leo, collectively we are bringing out our unique talents to show to the world. And as I speak of a smorgasbord of occult themes, I do not want to leave my SOUL MUSIC behind. I want to integrate it into my spiritual work and share my journey with you.

Do drop me a line if you think dark night music is like the very fundamental question of PHILOSOPHY….WHO AM I? If you listen closely enough, you will hear it…the PRIMORDIAL SOUND OF AUM MERGING WITH THE DIS-HARMONIC BEATS TO CREATE A PERFECT HARMONY! The perfect resonance!

I want to discuss different tracks and Artists, styles and treatments with you, just like I would discuss a French New Wave Film, Tantra or Theosophy, Tarkovsky or Munch, or a sonnet of Shakespeare. This is my quest to bring this to light.

If you like this music and like what I say, then support me. I will be going live soon on PATREON, please fund me. I plan to interact with all my PATRONS one on one(only if you take the exclusive deal) to display the various potentialities of this music in therapy, meditation, lucid dreaming and in sex magick.

Thank you! ❤

The Plan ~~ A Novel by Tinaheals

MIZPAH

The smell of death, the touch of suffering,

The hungry mouths, the tired bodies,

This is reality, wait, its buffering.

This is what it embodies.

The sleep, the dream, the dream in the dream!

 

I force my memory to return to that day, that fateful night.

I feel so divorced from reality that everything seems to be from a film, some experimental film, where the maker is purposely using disjointed close ups, to display the brokenness of the characters, to make visible the dehumanising of them.

It’s like when I look at advertisements- dismembered body parts of women are made to mimic products, a torso becomes a bottle of alcohol, and two legs become scissors. The woman is not only sexualized, objectified, but her body is not even allowed to remain whole, it is sliced up. What violence!

But here in this scene the filmmaker has perceived of slicing the characters to convey to me that they are somehow not whole, they are somehow disintegrating, they are fading away. The film I see, has a burnt out texture, the whole shot seems to be fragmented; there is an emptiness evident in the mise scene; the atoms are 9.999999999999% empty, so reality is essentially emptiness and I am more not here than here.

The camera is fluid, the shots keep going out of focus and then the subject gets refocused on. Wait, is this some film festival? Nah, it’s my life, more like a snapshot of my life.

That day!

I see her face; her mascara is running down her face, she looks like some character from a horror flick. Dressed in torn jeans and a white tee, her feet bare, her  messy make up, the alcohol on her breath and her cigarette smoke, they all surface at different times in my mind, like abstract close ups. They help me conjure up that very moment and I am there again.

A few weeks ago we had gone to the Police Station to file an FIR against this bastard. Not much was said that day or the following weeks of what had transpired because my sister was pretty much catatonic and has been since them, but this evening I get a call from her, drunk out of her head asking me to drop by. I ask Frank not to come as she might open up easier without a male presence, so hopping into a rick, I went straight to her Andheri apartment that she shared with Mel.

Anxiously I waited for her to get the door, and the sight that greeted my eyes shocked the living hell out of me.

Zeenia is wearing the same clothes in which she was raped and has painted her face very dramatically, presumably depicting the way she feels. I’m fucking scared. All these past few weeks what seemed like an eternity to me, she had suffered terribly from rape trauma syndrome and it has devastated us. We have all pretty much given up smiling or talking about anything normal, we just eat when hunger threatens to burn a hole through our stomach. Between Mel and me, we supervise her day and night, never allowing that one moment of weakness to overcome her. Slowly, slowly, she began to sleep for a few minutes, which has become a few hours. She’s stopped screaming in her sleep and the hallucinations about the rape have also lessened.

Only on days when we went to court, she’d be pretty much devastated to see the perpetrator sitting across the room, all smug and confident; lying through his teeth. Today the session at court was traumatic and this night is the reaction to that.

The night begins…

There are red Sula bottles strewn round the floor. I’m in Zeenia’s apartment at Yari Road, at least that’s where I think I am, my senses and understanding have abandoned me; we’re smoking spliffs and cigarettes like it’s going out of fashion.

The tiny apartment is smoky, it reeks of that cheap, sweet Sula smell that I detest; never been much of a drinker, in fact I do not care for alcohol at all, but today’s different.

Zeenia is drunk with a capital D and she keeps thrusting the bottle in my hand while petting Bhola, a stray puppy she rescued from the alleys of four bunglows. I keep sipping, knowing that she has something to say, but it is one of those things which can be mouthed out when one is sufficiently inebriated.

So I keep quiet, I drink on; we’re getting sloshed, Zeenia appears to be crying, hugging Bhola who stares at her surprised.

I see her face, a close up shot, her smeared mascara, and her face pale. What’s happened to you, my dearest friend, my sister? Why’re you wearing the same clothes? Why would you wear such ghoulish makeup?

Zeenia breaks down, she’s sobbing her eyes out. Bhola drags himself and sniffs her; he cannot walk as his hind is paralyzed, he carries his whole body weight on his front paws. There is a cello playing in the background, “Nothing else matters”, the celebrated Mettalica tune plays; there are no words, just the haunting tune spoken by the cello. It is spooky, it is surreal; eerily it plays on, the cello is hell bend on making me nauseous.

This nausea is different; it is filled with anxiety, with trepidation, with a doomsday feeling. Something bad is happening, no, no, it has happened and she is trying to tell me about it.

Birds fly high,

Heart as heavy as sinking iron.

The dusky twilight of today.

My haiku for the day, as I wait for her.

She is trying to work up the courage to speak about it, yes, something horrific has happened and she’s kept it bottled up for so long. Life as we knew it has ended, even Bhola can sense it.

Zeenia is on all-fours, on the floor, pulling her hair, screaming out in pain; all this while she was holding it in. I want to comfort her, but nausea is all I have. Where is Dadu? Where am I? Obviously not here, this body is here, pissed out of her mind, but where am I?

Am I in her scream? Am I in her pain? Am I even there? Do I even exist?

I just want to type away all this pain, yes, that’s what writers do, don’t they? A fucking fucked up cliché.

He raped me Nina, she’s saying. For the first time, I hear the words, the sinking feeling gets worse, as if it could get any worse. Since that day at the police station, she’d remained mute and unresponsive to everything, but today the flood gates have broken. I think I handled it better when she was silent, seeing her like this, with such a painful rawness is actually very scary.

Chills ran down my spine to actually hear these words- RAPE, RAPE, RAPE, it kept making a din in my consciousness. No, I did not hear it, but why is this word making so much noise, drowning everything else.

You read about rape in the newspapers, you watch it on tele, you see actors getting raped in films, you come across it in novels or short stories; but where do you encounter that word in the comfort of your own surroundings?

Such words do not perpetrate their violence in my mind when it comes to my sister.

As a writer you explore rape through different characters, you feel it deeply, but not like this.

Focus Nina, I hear a voice in my brain. Focus on what she is saying. “That bastard, he’s a fucking doctor, I trusted him…” All these words came to my ears disjointed, like a fragment from a whole dialogue but in the time they travelled to my ears these sound waves had lost most of their substance.

“How do people in positions of power abuse others so badly, I fucking don’t understand, especially women; these cunts create feminazis” shouts Zeenia. Her hands trembles as she tries to cut some white powder into straight lines. She snorts it through a crisp note, her eyes begin to water. She offers me the note; rolled up, ready to aid me in devouring some white powder.

No fucking way man, I did not yet care to fry my brain this instant, and of course the nausea is threatening to take charge. I have to keep it down. How did she get this stuff?

“Tell me all about it Zeenu, forget about the crap his lawyers are throwing at you, just tell me everything, from the beginning; he was about to operate on you, what happened?” I hear a small voice ask.

“Doctors are cunts; they probably rape patients on an everyday basis, who knows? Oh! And so are lawyers, fucking fuckballs…” she vacillates as if in a trance.

“But how, how,” I hear an insipid murmur. “How did it happen?”

“Fuck Nina, you’re just regurgitating the same shit over and over again, I was thinking about the story you wrote remember, about the rape…in the stables,” she reminds me.

I am quietened, I have no words. Yes I am dying to know how it happened, but I must not seem insensitive, as if at this point I can even feel anything. I think I officially know the meaning of hollow inside. I am guilty of writing that rape story in the stables, I am guilty, guilty…just hang me!

Once reminded of my creation of pain, I keep quiet; I know I have to pacify her, to give her some warmth. Why the fuck did I write that story? Oh Dadu, where are you now?

My mind is such a mess that right now even if Dadu appeared and spoke to me I could only materialize a vacuous stare.

Pull yourself together, that voice inside my head would just not shut up.

The scene playing in my mind, this movie I’m watching is boody nerve wracking. I want to shake this character Nina, the idiotic poet, phoo. What on Earth is her problem? Why can’t the bitch just hug her sister?

It’s as if the character in the film heard my cue. I see this Nina person slowly go up to her sister. She hugs her, it’s not a hug; it’s more of surrender. Zeenia had not expected this move, her rigid body turns limp, she surrenders to the power of human touch. The two sisters sob in each other’s arms, it’s perfect. The observer and the observed became one, for a second, I became Nina.

Nina, the writer; no big deal in a country where Chetan Bhagat is a best seller, it’s absolutely mundane now, being a writer that is. It’s officially the death of the intellectual. Besides what does this girl really write? Most would label her work as b.s, too grim, too existential (as if that’s a profanity), basically useless! Entertainment kahan gaya paaji? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Yes I am a morose writer, a fucking retard, oh, and depressed retard!

Scream of infinite solitude,

Enmeshed in traffic of the soul,

A faint smile.

This kind of shit is running through my head, fuckity fuck!

The night drags on. It’s funny how when I have a pleasurable time, it’s gone before I can even quantify all the sensations I had felt; but when things go downhill, it’s like karma coming full-force to bite me in the ass.

Finally, we both stop sobbing!

Her voice is small, it’s in fact tiny!

I can barely hear it, although we’re so close.

“You know how fucked up this shit is, I went to consult him for that boob job, my producer finally gave me the cash…so I found him online and went ahead, those D cups were all I had in my head, I’m so fucked up, don’t shshhh me, I’m a dumb bitch. You told me not to go for it, but what was I to do. I needed bigger tits, for that fucking part. Fuck, shit’s really hit the roof. I’m fucked, fucked…” She says.

I have no response, my eyes are closed. I am not watching her face, just imagining her reactions.

I could see every single micro expression, every single movement of her jaws, of her eyes, how the lines creased in her face, I saw all the details without actually looking.

I taste Zeenia’s tears in my mouth or were they my own? I have no answers, I have just feelings. The nausea, the confusion is overwhelming and the emotions are transmigrating as words in my mind palace. I wish to document the pain of the dark night, there was an abundant amount of it and my psyche could not hold all.

I wait with bated breath for her to continue and it looks like Bhola did the same.

Her voice has a far off quality to it, like it echoes from some distant world. I listen as she continues.

“Don’t they have the bloody Hippocratic oath, practise medicine honestly, screw practising medicine, isn’t it absolutely unethical on so many grounds to sodomize your patient,” as she says this I realize she has stopped sobbing, so have I.

My eyes are still closed, I’m watching this scene as the abstract, fragmented film, all those extreme close ups to help the exposition along.

She moves away slowly, I just wait. Our embrace is broken, now we sit facing each other. I open my eyes, I see her eyes.

The pain in them is excruciating, it rips my heart apart. Looking into her eyes I know that no matter how hard I try I will never be able to pen down that emotion, that look will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Zeenia’s my baby sister, I came to the world five seconds earlier, so I’m the older sister; in any case I’ve acted like she was my choto bon.

Shey amar choto bon, boro adorer choto bon…yes, I would piss her off to no end when this song came out of my lips. Damn you Nina, cut out the didi complex, what’s with Bongs and didigiri?

And kobigiri? Kobi kobi bhab, chonder obhak. True that. What’s with all the poetry in my heart, it’d be better off being more prosaic, that’s what the world needs.

Anyway, I protected her, I supported her, I guided her; overall I performed all functions of an older sister as well as that of my mother. Dadu was always there, he was our guardian angel.

Sanity is returning slowly to me, I guess it’s the warmth from my sister’s hug. I’m inclined to ramble on, “Your tits are fine, and why did you even need to go to that asshole? I told you not to, you don’t need silicon in your tits to become an actor. You’re not a bimbo, you’re way better than that.”

Zeenu starts shrieking, “I know what you’re thinking, tell me, tell me. You think it’s my fault right?? You’re probably thinking of some fucking haiku right?”

“Nah re baba, how can it be your fault and no I’m not thinking of a fucking haiku?? Nah re shona, it is my fault. I should have insisted and when you didn’t listen I should have done something severe.”

“What severe? Tied me up?” Her voice takes on a lighter note.

“Probably, fuck knows.” A hint of a smile in my voice.

“I have made Dadu proud, gone and got myself raped.” She laughs cynically. Bhola gets excited to hear her laugh and barks loudly wagging his tail, she grabs him roughly and begins kissing him. What violent love!

“Dadu would have never judged you know that, although your desire for the film led to all this…” I murmur.

A slap is what I deserve; blurting this out was definitely not the right move.

“Desire is the root of all suffering he would say,” she smiles.

I think this night will never end and I don’t know when we passed out on the floor listening to Bob Marley- No woman no cry.

The mind is a funny mechanism, it does not remember everything, yet everything is tucked away neatly in some kind of mind palace. We remember things selectively, otherwise we’d go stark raving mad!

The scene begins to fade away, like a slow fade out. And I remember typing lines on to my laptop…

The smell of death, the touch of suffering,

The hungry mouths, the tired bodies,

This is reality, wait, its buffering.

This is what it embodies.

The sleep, the dream, the dream in the dream!

The lines disappear…

Another more menacing scene replaces this one. It has an ominous overture; the sound of water fills my ears.

You know the sound of water running in a shower.

Zeenia is inside and she is scrubbing herself furiously. We’ve lost the court case, after months of painful hours spent in court, the verdict is out. Dr. V is officially not guilty. It’s somehow proven that my sister’s the slut, apparently they had consensual sex. So the case is blown to dust, like a lamp extinguished with a puff.

That night will be embedded in my psyche forever. We’ve returned home after another god-awful day at court, and today was the last day. We have lost in the Mumbai high court. We may decide to challenge the verdict in Supreme Court, but that’s something we’ve got to decide together. For tonight, it is just silence I seek.

Melissa is Zeenia’s partner, they seem to be in love. I quite like her, the girl seems to have her head on her shoulders.

We were talking softly about nothing exceptional, in fact I did not even want to talk, but had to, Mel needed to talk and I was there.

So we spoke, sipping coffee and taking turns to pet Bhola.

I had insisted that Zeenia leave her bathroom door open, she had one too many episodes recently. The breakdown of her psyche bit by bit was becoming more evident and today in court I saw the look in her eyes- the look of defeat. It broke my heart.

I heard the water run in the shower and the words to her favourite song floated out. We kept on talking, the water kept running, the beats marched on. It was as if time was set in a loop. I registered nothing from the conversation with Melissa, I’m sure she didn’t either; we were both trying to keep from breaking down.

Then she politely asked us to leave her alone and went for a bath which seemed like ages. We also wrapped up and I went to see her to kiss her goodnight. Yes she was in bed, smelling wonderful, hugging Bhola. Kissing her I left, Mel went into the shower, finished up and crawled into bed.

That night I saw baba and ma in a dream, it was prophetic. I ran after being woken up by my dream and the thoughts that followed. I went into her room.

 

The air had turned chilly, if that was even possible in a city like Bombay; and I miss you like the deserts miss the rain, said the song.

We ran. I saw this happening in slow motion. My life in film- we ran to the bed, and what I had expected greeted my eyes.

She lay on the bed, all snugly hugging her Bhola who was not making any noise.

Mel shrieked Frank ran in; I don’t know what happened after that. Some sort of primeval hardwiring in my brain took care of things.

Zeenia’s mouth was wiped dry, she had to be changed into jeans and a sweatshirt; after cleaning her up, her clothes sat snugly on her body as we put her down in the couch.

I remember seeing her face, all the troubles had vanished, and she seemed to be in deep sleep. I remember Dadu singing “Amaro shone chandero kona, bhubone tulona nai re…”

He sang this song sometimes; it was apparently our mother’s favourite, her mother would sing it to her when she was a child.

Where is she? I barely remember her now, but she’s there somewhere in my psyche; sometimes I hear her sing, her smell, her touch, for a micro second I remember.

Today she had come to see me, in my dream. She had told me something which made absolutely sense- you are her, she is you…

The reality was beginning to fragment again, my head was spinning and I could hardly focus as parts of my dream danced around my mind.

I imagined her last moments; she kept her pills hidden somewhere, maybe in the cistern. I see her take out a fistful, while her tears and water all get mixed up, you’d know she’s crying if only you watched the agony on her face.

She stuffs the pills in her mouth, chokes on them but swallows them down. Reflex action, she feels like throwing up. But she clutches her mouth, forcing them down.

I cut back in my mind to another scene, we’re sitting in the bathroom floor, she’s fallen flat on her face, she’s hurt, purple blue bruises adorn her face.

“Please Zeenu, stop taking this shit. Are you trying to leave me alone, do you want to kill yourself?” I tell her.

Suddenly a smile breaks free from all this torment; she whispers softly, her voice like silk.

“Nina to be something I am not is also a form of suicide, listen I want to hand in my resignation from this fucked up life, before I get fired.”

I hear her laugh softly as if this idea had amused her.

“Quite the philosopher, to be or not to be,” I say.

“Has always been the question,” she says definitively.

“Don’t do anything stupid ok, remember what Dadu would say, all this shit is unreal.” She sensed the urgency; the request in my voice touched her somewhere I know.

She looked at me long and hard, “I’m the fucking poster girl for stupid at this moment,” She thinks, probably about Dadu as her face softens. “I doubt Dadu would quite put it like that, but I get the gist.”

We sit in silence on the cold, wet tiles, we embraced our tears instead of suppressing them and calm washed over us.

“Some fucked up illusion this is…why can’t something good happen to me for a change? She blurts out; I feel her heartache. “At least your Muffin has nine lives right, can’t he give me a couple?”

I smile. Do cats have nine lives?

Mel is touching my hands, she is trying to bring me back to the present moment. I cut back to the scene in front- my sister’s body is stone cold, she finally did the “stupid” thing.

Was it so stupid after all? My grandmother also handed her resignation and so had her father; after all we share the same mitochondrial DNA.

Somehow this incident had made Zeenia hate herself, it made her hopeless; I did not understand what could make her as full of despair as to end her life, not just hers, but end our lives.

After Dadu’s passing, she is, I mean was all I had. I’m still not used to referring to her in the past.

I can still feel her vibrations; our feelings exist as vibration along the nervous system and we feel what another feels. I feel my sister.

I hear the sound of an approaching ambulance; she will be taken away soon. Bhola is whining, his tail stiff and he just keeps licking Zeenu’s hands.

Mel was ready when they walked in, thankfully she sorted everything out. She tugged at my hands and nodded, signalling it was time to move.

I got up zombified, it was time.

The journey to the hospital is hazy, a blur in my mind.

I remember her body being carried in a stretcher, with tubes all over her nostrils and face.

What the hell were they doing to her?

It looked to me like some scene from a D-grade horror; hospitals sicken me to the core. It’s a bloody phobia-

Nosocomephobia!

I had this phobia all along which is why I had googled it; it was at least a comfort to know I am not alone.

They say that the fear essentially arises from the fact that one has no control over their lives once admitted.

A control freak, I’m not! It didn’t take me long to realize that nothing is under control and in fact nothing can ever be.

All I can recollect is sitting on a steel bench in the corridor; it’s flooded with lights, the walls are white, and everything smells disgusting! The Doctors in their garbs, mouths covered, the nurses in their uniforms, hair tied severely in a bun, they all looked scary and ugly; all the action was happening in slow motion and it looked like they were experimenting on humans. Maybe they’re aliens, who even knows?

Something about the smell in a hospital, a mix of Dettol, bleach, blood, sweat, puke and faeces; you can also smell the fear, the anxiety, the devastation disease and bodily suffering brings.

And then it just goes blank- fade to black.

Nothing else exists- not matter which is just a form of energy in a matrix of probability.

I see Dadu, his big, white beard swaying in the dark; a fire seems to burn in front of him, I can hear the wood crackle, I can see the fire dance in his eyes. He begins to look like someone not quite like Dadu, but he is him.

Dadu’s face began to morph into the face of Sanyal Mahasaya, his gurudeva. I knew that face only too well; it had been a part of my life as seeing it as the first thing in the morning cemented that face forever in my brain.

Sanyal Mahasaya looked wrathful, fearsome and terrifying. His voice was booing in my head, “Actions or karma can cause bondage, it can also liberate, in the one BEING, the ONE ALL, everything is connected to every other thing. Good and evil are subjective…the Universe is both positive and negative, like the atoms bouncing in your body…it is the whole series of contrasted qualities- NOTHING IS PURE GOOD OR PURE EVIL.”

I saw her face again; the song is playing louder now that the monologue is over, like the sound designer turned it up a notch!

“Now you’ve disappeared somewhere,

Like outer space,

You’ve found some better place

And I miss you…

Like the deserts miss the rain

Could you be dead…

By now the words had begun to scream at me- could you be dead??

It hit me hard- she is dead!!!

I will never hold her again, I will never laugh with her again, never share my life with her again; the same way I can never see Ma or baba or dadu.

It’s over, finito, kaput!!!

I see her again, frothing from the mouth, her body all twisted and blue from the poison, I feel the nausea swimming in my head.

I think about the observer’s paradox, this concept that the observer decides what to observe. What if I am observing all the wrong things??? There are infinite probabilities, so why is this option playing itself out??

Am I in some bizarre twisted way responsible for this? Can I take the blame for this?

I am ready to do pretty much anything at this point to suppress this immense pain; absolutely anything! Muffin where are you?

I’ve got to write, the words are coming, but not as fast as I’d like them to.

I shout, I see it, I hear it,

The pain, the atrocity, it exists….

In me…

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The Plan ~~ A Novel by Tinaheals

Notes from the underground
The home of my dreams-

Soft fleeting tears.

Marigolds in bloom.

 

I do not know how I began to tell this story. Why did I begin? It is nothingness, a deformity in my subconscious. It is just a pointless pursuit. It began where I don’t know, but right now, I am sitting in front of a Policeman and a State sponsored Psychiatrist.

I know him- Rustom Mistry, yes, that’s his name, I can see the Faravahar glittering in the light. “It’s to remind me of my true purpose, at least that’s what my mom hopes.” He’d told her when she’d asked about it. The winged disk and the bearded human motif looked very appealing to me, but today it seems scary. The purpose of my life, it’s fucking over! Not even the Faravar can save me!

He is asking me all these questions, with a very stern face. But believe me; I cannot understand what he says. For the life of me, his words are a jumble. I am trying to answer, but nothing. My jaw muscles have gone on strike. It’s like I never knew the powers of speech. I am unable to communicate and totally enervated. Have you ever heard a singing bowl? The sound of it keeps reverberating in my mind, suddenly out pops the Tom and Jerry tune in my mind, some heavy programming by Disney!

I have been forced to shut down, just like when you hold the power switch of a computer and just manually shut it down, you do not take the trouble of performing a proper shut down. My consciousness is the black screen, the product of a forced shut down.

My wretched eyes see everything. Rustam’s impassive face. Yet, the trace of anxiety makes itself known, which he suppresses with dutiful vigour. I sense that I’m watching him as different Ninas. Complicated emotions are tormenting me.
Ting tong! The bell rang. I was dressed in this gorgeous little black number from Yves Saint Laurent, also boasted of wedged heels from the same make- black luxurious suede. I was waiting for him.
I opened the door. Dr. Misty stood there. Ah yes, he was complete with the clichéd bunch of roses in his hands-blood red ones. He was speaking as clear as a bell, trying to implore me with his eyes. He also said something to the effect that he had wanted me for very long, but never had the guts to speak up. He told me he thought about me and was becoming obsessive, like I was under his skin. A chance is what he wanted. He throws caution to the winds and hugs me. The next minute I am in his arms, his lips are on mine, trying to get inside my mouth, as if snaking in to touch my soul.
One of the Nina’s (I have many Nina’s inside of me, fuck!) look at his lips, those same one who were trying to part her lips, to explore her very being. Those lips were now moving, creating geometric shapes, like the shapes formed when a kid blows bubbles from that god-awful soapy liquid.
Evanescent worlds,

Like dews of dawn.

Ghosts in time.

So the shapes his mouth is now making also disintegrates like the transient bubbles. Nothing elucidates impermanence as this act of blowing spherical shapes in the air which disintegrate in a few seconds. Poof! They are gone. New worlds created and destroyed, at the blink of an eye-lid. The bubbles form words. He’s asking me why I am here.

Why is anybody here? There is seriousness to his voice as he asks me why I had gone to Lilavati last night? Obviously I did not reply. I could not. I was physically unable to. Trauma I think is what did it. “Can you tell me why you stabbed this man repeatedly?? You killed him…” he was shoving a picture of a smiling face in my hands.
I have on tight mini-skirts and leather boots that are a few inches above my knees, very dark and Gothic make-up and I have on a wig, a short trendy wig. I try to touch it. Someone watching me from afar would notice a shaky hand moving to touch the hairline with no definitive purpose. But the purpose was known to this man- Rustam. “Why do you have that on?” He asks pointing to the wig.
I sit silently, looking down at the blood drying on this super expensive pair of boots that I bought online from some German fantasy leather footwear company, as a gift for my sister. They were splendid in their craftsmanship- the Germans definitely know how to design and make things. Other words from his mouth also manage to surface briefly in my consciousness. Word association! I normally think of a word when I hear a word. One word brings about the memory of another and so on so forth. The story is never ending. This has been a most fascinating way to tend to burgeoning ideas. Words like “life-support system” made its way to my subconscious. A sting of incredible pain jolted me into nausea. I’m throwing up all over the table, my clothes my shoes, my heart rate through the ceiling, my body drenched in sweat.
Rustam signals to the police behind the mirror to send in lady constables. Two stout Marathi female cops burst into the scene with some medical aid. “Kai zala?” They lift me up, try to stuff water down my throat, wipe me up and revive me. But I almost faint, the pain is too oppressive. I would have preferred to be Mary Antoinette, marching to the guillotine.

Muffin, your softness is what I seek; where are you baby? Come to me, there’s nothing I need more than your purrs and rubs.
And then I saw his face.

 

The face of cobwebs,

Disintegrating like the quarks in an atom,

Of nothingness.
Rustam is looking at me and I think I know what’s going through his head. My beaming face, obviously enamoured by his intellect and sophistication, sitting in the first bench, listening to him talk about Jungian Collective Unconscious, yes that memory is surfacing in his mind. It was a less complicated time. We were infatuated with each other.
But now, everything has changed. Today he stands in front of me as an inquisitor and it’s a witch hunt. A murder! He is supposed to uncover the darkest depths of my mind to know how I could commit such a hideous crime. No sorry- Hideous crimes and now I sit as dead as a doornail.
Dr. Rustam Mistry will be questioned about his diagnosis. He will go with the catatonic stupor characterized by motoric immobility, mutism and catalepsy, followed by the rare bout of nausea, blah fucking bloo.
Frank came to meet me and my mind kept repeating, A hope which is now forever past…A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past…it just broke my already broken heart.

The police officer informed Rustam about his arrival and was asked his professional advice on whether Frank and I could meet. He did consent to our meeting and was there right behind the mirror to observe every subtle emotion that was there or wasn’t there or the ones he just thought existed.
Jail or any form of detention centre is hardly the place for lovers to meet. But Frank just held my hands, kissed them so very tenderly and whispered something about star stuff contemplating the stars…it was a Sagan expression we both loved. Gorgeousity! Star stuff, contemplating star stuff…Malana cream and Sagan. Ah!
When I hear these words I am reminded of another life, in another world where

I remember saying that we are made up of star stuff and he took my chain of thought and elaborated on it. “We’re star stuff, contemplating star stuff…” “As above”, said I and before I could complete my sentence, he covered my mouth and completed, “So below”…for me. We kissed, long and deep, like a Russian Kiss which explored not just my physical body but ignited a fire in my soul, it lasted the whole night. That night was like an eternity!
Frank sobs softly. “I will not give up on you or us…” My heart sobs with him, but I am catatonic. I want to ask him about my cat, Muffin, a majestic British Blue male, two years old and my baby. I want to hold him in my arms, his purring body close to my heart as he nibbles my nose with affection. He is missing me. Two most important males in my life, both from the Great Britain. An irony? The Angrez have not lost their hold on us. Anglophiles formed the part of Bengali society I called my family.

The vilayat, complete with toilet papers to wipe your arse. Who cleans their arse with water? What savages? Don’t forget the knives and forks, eat with your hand and in a jiffy you’re the outcast, chi chi, eating with your hand, as if somehow the toxicity of the hands were confirmed and verified by science.

I’d seen this documentary on Satyajit Ray, where he speaks of how the Western world took to Pather Panchali. He spoke of how some American women had been forced to throw up after watching Indir Thakrun eating with her hands on screen. What a bunch of barbarians, thought the pretty, sophisticated mems.

Okay I might have even fought super hard to be this sexy, sophisticated Angrezi lassie, if so many people around me had not made it their lives’ mission.

They are everywhere, singing Psalms in Convents at the crack of dawn, wearing micro mini, chote chote mini skirts with tank tops, as if showing skin is a sign of emancipation from old oppressive customs; these creatures were allergic to anything that screamed desi, like vampires to sunlight.

Imported goods, imported bathroom fittings, imported brains?
It’s not that I refuse to answer Frank. Believe me, I want to. But my mouth just refuses to speak, my eyes just sank deep into their crevices, my tongue just hangs there like a limp rag; I feel my brain is losing control, like a general who loses his soldiers due to some internal mutiny. The general, my brain has lost power, its reign is over and each of the organs has taken control. But this time, they are not working in harmonious synchronization, they have developed individuality. Screw individuality! Each behaved in the way it wanted to. All they seem to want is to not respond. So there you go, there was no response to Frank’s entreaties. Was this real??? Frank’s face, his tears, Rustam’s face, his stern look- it feels like cardboard scenery, in fact I have the taste of saw dust in my mouth.

I want to thank Frank for caring after my boy Muffin; in a sense he is the be all and end all of my existence when it comes to matters of the heart, and the only male in my life for so long. Thousands of years ago, the Egyptians worshipped the cat in the form of Bastet, killing a cat was punished by death and if a cat died, it’s family would shave off their eyebrows; well, seems like cats have not forgotten that and my Muffin certainly deserves worship.
Anyway Rustam is watching!
Little does he know that a woman is looking to meet me, her name SAPNA VERMA, the wife of the man I had brutally stabbed to death. He had multiple lacerations, a punctured abdomen and his testicles were chopped off. Such gruesome acts were only seen on telly in serials, where you get to see how evidence is collected which ultimately points to the guilty, no matter how much camouflaged the identity of the killer is. My DNA was everywhere in the crime scene, the CSI guys would not break a sweat in proving that it was I who did it.
Anyway Sapna has walked up the Police Officer who’s called Rustam. I have to meet her, she said. Rustam’s apprehensive, but then he sees Frank exit my cell. Sapna follows his glance and instantly approaches Frank demanding to see me, this bloody witch who she would have gladly burnt at the stake.
She enters my cell. Her eyes confront the pale corpse in front, my practically lifeless body. I must say, a shocked expression registers on her face as she looks at me from head to toe. What is this phantasmal entity, she must be thinking. How did this weakling kill my husband? Little did she know that when your mind is set, you can achieve anything- nothing is out of reach? I could have killed him over and over again, a hundred, fuck it, a billion times if I had to. It was like the most important exam I had to take, an exam which would ensure my demotion in the karmic law.

Lines from my poem are swimming in my consciousness; as a writer, one has the ability to randomly switch off and travel to other realms. Yes, it’s officially true, we have super powers.
Dadu would not approve. He was the type of man who would not take a shot at the enemy even if his range was clear and the bullet would definitely find its mark. He was an obsolete man in this world, an outdated DOS operating system. He was more interested in questions like who am I? Where did I come from? He preferred to ponder on such things. Self enquiry, he called it. Dadu I was screaming, who am I? The answer rang loud and clear- a killer. I had killed a man.
Sapna is pale-faced looking at me. “Are you her friend?” She asks Frank hesitantly. Frank nods. I’m not looking at them, but I know exactly what’s happening. At that precise moment I’m observing a spider spin its web. Is it spinning the web to catch a prey? All webs are not spun only for nutritious titbits; some webs are spun as hobbies, as works of art. To create something without any utilitarian purpose, but to create just for the sake of creation! What’s the point of that?? Some common-sense lover would say. Nothing honestly. Right? Wait, I think I see a tiny movement in the web. Is there an insect? Or is it the wind? Or is it my fucking imagination.

Ah! Imagination! It’s what always got me in trouble at school.
I was reprimanded for having too much imagination! My skin crawls to think of the parent’s-teacher’s meetings that Dadu had been subjected to over the years. Sheer torture for both of us and of course for the teachers!

They were just trying to help me through life and look what happened! I went ahead and killed a man. How horrified they would be. I imagine my Algebra teacher, Miss. Kalpana, a hard martinet in her late 50’s on the witness box, telling the judge how she knew I will be in trouble some day. It’s her fault, it’s her imagination.
Imagination is the culprit.

Lines from my poems kept ringing in my ears. STOP!

Back from these lines assaulting my consciousness, poetry is truly my life breath. Only if reality could be poetry, then I might have had a chance to do it differently.
Anyway, by now the shock has transformed into anger. It’s quite amazing to note how humans can translate any emotion into a show of anger. I think it’s a shield they hide behind- ANGER! Anytime you are unsure of how to express yourself, just display anger. It’s safe and effective! You can block off the more painful introspective thought processes.
So Sapna Verma takes the easy way out, she opts for anger. She musters all her strength and strides up to me. After a stare at my impassive, immobile face for a few minutes, she can control herself no longer. The oppressive silence envelopes the room like a thick cloak as all wait with bated breath. Then a slap almost knocks me off balance, but somehow my body refuses to be floored. I have no clue how and why. I just sit there. The sound of the slap is unnerving to Frank and Rustam behind the supposed glass, watching everything. But I feel nothing. Then funnily enough I hear the chorus, “I feel numb,” yes U2, and I understood what numb means.
You go through life, learning new words, understanding their meanings, but actually you understand nothing. The words are nothing but words unless you have the pertinent experience stored away in the depths of your being, which leave permanent imprints on your brain and yes, then you understand the word. Not till then.

Rape, murder, death- all these are words which are very much a part of our regular vocabulary. But how far do we understand them? We honestly don’t. Ask the young college student what rape means; presuming she has never been violated, she will have only a vague understanding of the term, maybe from movies or books.

Mine was from Monika Belluci’s incredible performance in Irreversible. But ask a rape victim what that word means and you will be shocked at the difference of understanding. The same word, but completely different levels of comprehension! Experience is what makes us learn new words, not just simply by glancing at a Thesaurus, but by learning through life. I understand the words Death, rape and murder, they have closely associated themselves with me, like the hanger-on friend you simply want to avoid.
Sapna is breaking down, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. She comes really close to me; I can smell her Chanel 5 perfume and minty breath. “Why did you kill him?” She asks. Very predictable question! You already knew that was coming right? But get this; she then murmurs something totally unexpected. After a moment’s hesitation, she whispers, “I’m sorry…I know what happened…with your sister…” now this should have definitely instigated some reaction from me, she thinks. It did, in the subconscious. But consciously I’m fucked up, incapable of any expression. I sat like a chopped up tree log, destroyed and cut down. If you apply the crescograph on a chopped up log, it’ll be interesting to see what level of consciousness remains.
I felt like writing but my physical body was pretty much worthless.

Poetry will not erase this woman’s troubles and nor will it answer her questions. Will it? Is poetry even useful? Or is it as worthless as me?

Sapna is troubled about an image that plagued her mind. Her thoughts travel to a certain day when she had looked through a crack on the door panelling. She’d seen her husband on the floor, howling with immense pain. A newspaper lay crumpled by his side, which displayed a beautiful girl. But creases had formed on her face as the newspaper sat wrinkled, but the smile was infectious.

It’s bewildering for her to see the physical similarly between the haggard girl in front and the face in the newspaper, but there was a slight difference. Not to mention that the girl in the newspaper was smiling, brimming with life and this girl in front was as lifeless as a cadaver. Still that was not it. There’s something else and I might have been able to help her, if not for the mutiny of my organs. Ridiculous!
I think the stark imagery of her husband’s painful explosion that night is a bit too much for Sapna to handle. Her head begins to swim and she’s about to collapse. But Frank provides support, the rock solid man that he is. Sapna is thankful for this support and the warmth his huge frame provides that she just holds onto him, his aftershave wafting in the air, tinkling her nose. For a moment she forgets where she is, holding onto him seemed the most natural thing. And then the tears came, they breake the floodgates and storm in like huge tsunamis. Sapna’s outcry sounds like a hurt animal and then she says these words. “But why kill him??? You can’t take what you can’t give…only God can take a life…”
Naive humanity! Who is this anthropomorphized God? What kind of a God will intervene- he will create and then destroy! This idea never agreed with me, in fact it nauseated me, every time people spoke about God like “He” was their personal problem solver. Of course I indulged in that odd prayer or two before my results; they were like placebo. And remember God has to always be referred to as HE!
Dadu used to say that Bengalis are a matri-bhakta culture; to them the mother figure is as important as the father, if not more. God to me could not be a He or a She. This was crystal clear in my mind even as a child. I gave it a lot of thought, but nothing made sense.

Gradually I began to avoid the word God. God in the sense society spoke of the idea. Man cheapened this transcendental concept. It is beyond human understanding. With our dwarfed intellects we can never grasp this idea; it’s a waste to try. “Nothing in life is a waste,” another one of Dadu’s lines! Dadu, Dadu where are you? How come our times together ended? You would say, “Nothing ever ends and similarly nothing begins, it’s just your perception which keeps you chained to such ideas of beginnings and ends. You are eternity in yourself…”. I would do anything to lie in Dadu’s lap or cuddle Muffin.

I hear Dadu’s voice- it’s crystal clear, his smell wafts in my consciousness- Asatoma sadgamaya, tamo soma yotir gamaya, mrityrma amritam gamaya!!

These words they play with my consciousness, Dadu enunciates them so well, so crisp, and so effortless, it sounds divine. He said that Sanskrit was the language of the Gods and there was never a doubt in my mind when he spoke it. He made the language godly.

He spent much time explaining this shloka to me- from Unreal take me to the Real, from darkness take me to light, from death take me to immortality!

Everything about this situation my friend is unreal. No you do not understand, a murder, by my hands? It is unreal. I respect life; harming even a fly hurts me. It’s no charlatanism! I do not care if you don’t believe me, it’s not important, not trying to get you to come to my side, I’m just telling you of how things are, no embellishments, no B.S.

It was basenter dupur bela, a spring afternoon; we sat near Dadu, in our living room. It was a Sunday, a lazy Sunday. Dadu had a ritual with us; he’d read to us, from the Vedas, from the Tantra texts, the Upanishads and the Bhagavadgita and explained certain parts. Zeenia was less open to this idea as she grew older; she preferred to be on her phone or laptop.

Dadu did not scold her, forcing his opinions on people was not what he sought to do when he read to us from these ancient texts; he wanted us to be connected to our roots, discover what our ancestors had left behind.

I enjoyed his company immensely, his stories interested me on many levels and he brought out the different characters so vividly; this led me to form a fascination for the human psyche. Come to think of it, it shaped my future; I decided to take up psychology honours. My parents has both studied English in college; when I was a kid, I knew that I would probably end up studying it too, but eventually studying the human mind became an obsession.

Anyway, that afternoon it was the Bhagavadgita.

The lines ring loudly in my ears, but in it the concept of Arjuna having to kill all his relatives is what bothered me. But dadu, how can Arjuna kill all these people? Especially Bhishm, his gurudeva, and all his cousins? The thing that plays in my mind today is a question little Nina asked him, Dadu but how can anyone kill?

This question, it’s mocking me, this question’s alluring me, and it begins to take many forms, grotesque, grave, gruesome, until it begins to drive me crazy. All this angst in my mind, but if you look at me from afar, I’m carved in stone, an effigy created to be burned.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Twinflames and Soulmates: How to identify them~~

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“A soulmate is an ongoing connection with another individual that the soul picks up again in various times and places over lifetimes. We are attracted to another person at a soul level not because that person is our unique complement, but because by being with that individual, we are somehow provided with an impetus to become whole ourselves.”  — Edgar Cayce

I have already discussed this WHOLE that we must return to~~the return to INNOCENCE! This WHOLE has to be internalised as well, for without integrating the yin/yang polarities, there is little or no hope that you will meet your twinflame or soulmate! As much as Hollywood or Bollywood have you believe otherwise!

Venus direct in Aries is firing up some deep, deep yearnings inside of me and I am compelled to concentrate on this topic(besides you guys keep asking me to write more on this subject).

Recently I witnessed a really powerful love story take shape and I feel honoured to have worked with the lovely couple. Their joining together seemed so magical, even the ways their auras met. I realised they were twinflames! They are in the very small percentage of people who will meet their twinflames this incarnation, in the 5th race(We are in the 5th race according to HPB).The sixth and seventh race will herald in a moment when more of Twinflames will be incarnating together.

Look around you. Look at the magazines, the programmes on telly, the commercial films…what do you see? All I see is commercialising of sex and violence and throwing in a pinch of impossible romantic love that Hollywood has created. The devastating heterosexual treacherous psycho-somatic mindfuck!!! The disastrous DATING GAME!

The dating scene is just that! A mindfuck and everyday it gets a little worse. Where is the connection? Where is the depth of feeling? I mean wtf are we humans if we cannot feel feelings deeply.

You know in my channelling I have got a clear message- Humans are extremely complex emotional creatures. The depth and profundity of our emotions have many alien civilisations green with envy. They are intrigued by the whole gamut of human emotions. So humans, be proud of your feelings. Be receptive to your feelings. Feel deeply. Love deeply and fuck deeply.

A love story that touched my heart was of Jean Paul Sartre and Simone De Beauvoir. To Sartre, FREEDOM was everything so he wanted to be FREE from the bourgeoisie decorum of monogamy.  He said his relationship with Beauvoir was the best and most complete and equal relationship he could ever have with anyone.  It wasn’t about sex or intimacy, but rather about intellectual discussions and conversations on the vital decisions in their lives. Yes they had issues like all of us, but they decided to be CREATIVE and FREE in their love. They challenged each other intellectually and in all other ways. That is very Twinflame type of energy. Yes sex is important, but with the Twinflame energy, it is a part of the WHOLE.

The phrase soul mate, is as old as time(the meaning), but was first recorded in 1822, when the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote in a letter, “To be happy in Married Life . . . you must have a Soul-mate.” Inexplicably, the term has skyrocketed in use since the 1980s and billions of dollars have been made and billion hearts broken over failed expectations of romantic love. We are romance junkies and we need that adrenal pumping right through our bodes, don’t we?

Most people I work with are interested in their love lives. Most of them want to know if X or Y is the one. Will they meet their soulmates? Will they fuck like rabbits under a full moon by the beach? 😉 Seriously people! That is what we are being sold- an impossible love story. Every love song, every love story, a small impossible universe of pain and bliss unto itself! We humans live for love(and pain too). As corny as that sounds!

Most of us yearn for this twinflame/soulmate connection, when we watch a perfect Sunset or listen to that track that somehow pumps our hearts and makes us transcend time and space to be with that mysterious person. It is an impossible yearning that has never ceased and may never cease as it is direct SOUL ENERGY. And why should it not be so? Love is the greatest cosmic force. The real love story between twinflames, not the stuff you see onscreen or in clubs. Modern relationships have become mere shells of what is possible and what once existed between the masculine and the feminine. We were EQUALS, in every way.

Love in all its manifestations is pure energy and sexual love is the very creator of our Universe- the male/female polarities have created this reality. I was just reading up about how Scientists have discovered this COLD SPOT in the Universe which may suggest that energy and information is lost when Universes collide with each other. Shocked?!?

Our Universe is only one in an infinite set which comprises the multiverse and in all of them exists a different version of you. Maybe in some Universe you are writing this while I am reading this. Yes it all sounds like fantasy, but this my dear friends is the reality.

In all of the infinite Universes you experience love and passion in different ways and there are 144 souls who incarnate together. This 144 is a part of a single unitary consciousness~ the BE-NESS.

Upon inaugurating an active period, says the Secret Doctrine, an expansion of this Divine essence from without inwardly and from within outwardly, occurs in obedience to eternal and immutable law, and the phenomenal or visible universe is the ultimate result of the long chain of cosmical forces thus progressively set in motion. In like manner, when the passive condition is resumed, a contraction of the Divine essence takes place, and the previous work of creation is gradually and progressively undone. The visible universe becomes disintegrated, its material dispersed; and ‘darkness’ solitary and alone, broods once more over the face of the ‘deep.’ To use a Metaphor from the Secret Books, which will convey the idea still more clearly, an out-breathing of the ‘unknown essence’ produces the world; and an inhalation causes it to disappear. This process has been going on from all eternity, and our present universe is but one of an infinite series, which had no beginning and will have no end.” ~~HPB

This Be-ness is the I AM ALL or the BRAHMAN of the Vedantins. From that manifests the I AM or the EGO which is symbolised by Narayan on the oceans of time and space. That is the Cosmic Purusha whose polarity is PRAKRITI or the MOTHER ESSENCE or MULAPRAKRITI. This divine MOTHER/FATHER is one of the oldest ARCHETYPES in our psyches. This Mother/Father then created 12,000 groups of souls into 144 souls each.

Each of these groupings contained 12 monads, with 12 soul extensions within each
monad. Thus creating the 144,000 Souls and their twin ray was over lighted for each
of the 12 monads that represented the 12 Rays of SPIRIT. Originally all
of these rays were ONE but then separated into the 12 for specificity. That is how we broke up lovelies….from our twinflames.

But no matter how dense this 3D reality may be, no matter how thick the veil is, some of us cannot help but wonder about this Twinflame connection. It is strong, it is potent and is you are developed psychically, then you can surely tune into these energies. I know I do. I feel him.

“…and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other’s sight, as I may say, even for a moment…”
― Plato, The Symposium

In his dialogue The Symposium, Plato has Aristophanes present a story about soulmates. Aristophanes states that humans originally had four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces. He continues that there were three genders: man, woman and the “Androgynous”. Each with two sets of genitalia with the Androgynous having both male and female genitalia. The men were children of the sun, the women were children of the earth and the Androgynous were children of the moon, which was born of the sun and earth. It is said that humans had great strength at the time and threatened to conquer the gods. The gods were then faced with the prospect of destroying the humans with lightning as they had done with the Titans but then they would lose the tributes given to the gods by humans. Zeus developed a creative solution by splitting humans in half as punishment for humanity’s pride and doubling the number of humans who would give tribute to the gods. These split humans were in utter misery to the point where they would not eat and would perish so Apollo had sewn them up and reconstituted their bodies with the navel being the only remnant hearkening back to their original form. Each human would then only have one set of genitalia and would forever long for his/her other half; the other half of his/her soul. It is said that when the two find each other, there is an unspoken understanding of one another, that they feel unified and would lie with each other in unity and would know no greater joy than that. ~~Wikipedia

See how pathetic the scenario is? This whole soulmate thing has us all fired up. Companies are selling products worth billions fuelling this dream of the impossibly perfect romance. We all want that newness, that thrill and adventure of a new love, we are truly love-junkies in these days of social media. We want our fix and we want it now.

Jean Paul Sartre argues that to possess something is to want to be united with it.  So the goal of love is to possess your lover, or put more nicely, to be united with your lover. It’s not about physical possession or power; it’s rather about possessing their consciousness.  You want to know that they would do anything for you, like betray their friends for you, steal for you or kill for you.  You don’t want to be just another object in the world, but the key to revealing the world for your lover. Sartre says this explains the joy of love: when you find justification of your life in your lover. But how can you find justification in your lover? This vicious cycle is why Sartre says LOVE IS DECEPTION. The way society has perceived of it. I could not agree more.

Twinflame love is anything but POSSESSION or DECEPTION!

But don’t be sad…reality is MAGICKAL and your soulmate exists, yes, your twinflame too and you can find them if you develop your psychic gifts with meditation and intention, ritual and magick.

Tell me have you ever locked eyes with someone and felt the life-force knocked out of you? Or have you seen someone online and felt that you have known them forever. You feel immensely attracted to them and you don’t know why. Have you felt that?

Okay I am not saying that every time you get attracted to someone, that you are meeting your soulmate. Sadly that is not the case. If you are in tune with your spiritual side and in touch with your INNER VOICE, then you may pay special attention if you feel extremely attracted to that someone. It has happened to people I know and for some it worked and for some it didn’t. So use your powers of discretion. I would not suggest you approach the person right away. Wait and watch.

There are certain signs that this person is indeed your Twinflame or Soulmate. What are those?

A profound sense of dejavu. Look for signs and symbols. Think of the colours and numbers. What do they mean? This sense of knowing this person is so overwhelming that you are left stunned. Don’t feel bad if it has not happened to you in such a profound manner, because not everyone will come across these strong karmic energies. A lot of these answers can be found with the placement of Ketu, Venus, Eris, Juno, Mars and you also need to see what planets occupy your fifth, seventh and eighth house.

Edgar Cayce said God created androgynous souls—equally male and female. Later theories postulate that the souls split into separate genders, perhaps because they incurred karma while playing around on the Earth, or “separation from God.” Over a number of reincarnations, each half seeks the other. When all karmic debt is purged, the two will fuse back together and return to the ultimate. ~~Wiki

This is why Twinflames incarnate. They have unfinished business which needs to be taken care of. They have to separate. Yes this separation is painful even if we are blissfully unaware. But it is real, to our souls. We feel it DEEP WITHIN.

“the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh”. ~~GOSPEL OF MATTHEW

Everything is energy, so when two people feel attraction, there is a spike in energy. These “highs” will be like no highs you have felt, if you actually fuck your soulmate/Twinflame. The chemistry will set fire to the bed, I assure you that. But that is not the only sign.

There is a video I found online of performance Artist Marina

See the look on their eyes…pretty close to Twinflame vibes. What do you think? This left such an impact on me. The story of separation…the flux of life…nothing stays the same, everything changes.

Look I might try to type a thousand words to explain this psychic love connection, but believe me human words cannot explain the intricacies of such feelings. Words can never grasp all its complex and simple nuances. It is impossible.

Take this poem of Tagore for instance ~~

“Unending Love

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it’s age old pain,
It’s ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems

Like this poem. Like meditation. It can only be felt. The Twinflame can only be felt and not from a superficial place, but from the very depth of your heart chakra.

Don’t expect this type of relationship to feed your ego, for it will do just the opposite. It will shatter your ego into smithereens and recreate you. Think of THE TOWER card of the MAJOR ARCANA. But some get caught in the lower vibrations and land up being stalkers and psycho exes. It is best to just surrender if you feel such a powerful force and that is the sweet surrender.

Speak to him/her if you can. But do not fret over someone if your feelings are not reciprocated. Remember thoughts are energy! You may be attaching yourself to that person uselessly and creating pointless karmic ties and debts that you do not need to. News Flash~~You may be calling a wrong number! That person is not your Twinflame!

If you are mature and still feel this deep vibe for someone, then do go ahead and make contact. As long as he is not married! lol! In most cases, the soulmate will be married. As ridiculous as it sounds, because most of us, if we ever do, will meet this person at a much later stage in life. We have to live, to love, to experience and then only can we identify this Twinflame connection.

Does that mean young people cannot meet their soulmates? They most surely can. But they have to be karmically ready for this you see.

According to spiritual teachers like Mark L. Prophet and Elizabeth Clare Prophet, it is not a soulmate that is one’s true love, perfect match, or literal other half as is often times imagined, but instead it is the twin flame that is one’s true love, perfect match or literal other half.  In The Ascended Masters on Soulmates and Twin Flames, the Prophet’s state that “if you really meditate at inner levels, you know that that relationship doesn’t go as high or is not as profound as the one with the person who is your direct counterpart—the twin flame you have known as your other self from the first moment of your creation.” ~~Wikipedia

Can you imagine the intensity of such a relationship? You have known your twinflame from that first MOMENT OF CREATION! How sublime is that!

The Greek philosopher Aristotle is quoted as saying “Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies”and the Zohar states that “Each soul and spirit prior to its entering into this world, consists of a male and female united into one being. When it descends on this earth the two parts separate and animate two different bodies. Like the ARDHANARISHWARA, the union of the binaries. That is how we exist with our Twinflames, as the joined Ardhanirishwara!

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So the concept is everywhere! With people from over the world. We humans think of the same things, yet we go to war! We all bleed when we are cut, but swords abound, not pens.

There is an aspect of Soulmates and Twinflames that bothers my Uranian rebellious spirit. Do we have FREE WILL when we choose to fall in love or is it just destiny? The soulmate is sometimes a forced concept to keep society believing in the impossible dreams Hollywood peddles. I wonder…

Is this soulmate/ twinflame thingy hurting society more than benefiting us?

Do not get caught up in petty emotions and feelings! This is just ONE UNIVERSE, one option, one story. There are INFINITE such Universes, there are INFINITE SUCH STORIES. And in each Universe you are thinking that this is the ONLY ONE TRUE REALITY! But it is not. Reality is INFINITE in its complexity.

Do not think that familiarity will breed contempt, for INTIMACY and ROMANCE can co-exist and this Twinflame love will typify that.

Look it is okay if your paths don’t cross this incarnation because it will, when you are ready. But not till then.

We all want deep relationships, tenderness and something profound, but we just don’t get it. Relationships have to be cultivated, it does not happen overnight.

I leave you with this last track….

Don’t know why, it elicits a primal emotion in me….so raw and so sexy…

Much more on Twinflames coming up at a later date. For now I am off to meditate…on what? What do you think? 😉

http://www.tinaheals.com

tina@tinaheals.com

The Plan~~A Novel by Tinaheals

 

Help me Publish!!! Email ~ tina@tinaheals.com

http://www.tinaheals.com

Rajani and the twins moved from their gigantic ancestral home to a modest apartment,

He continued working, but had lost interest. Only two clients remained with him, the rest hired his son who now also usurped his office. So with a very modest salary he began to educate and care for his granddaughters. He became father and mother, friend and teacher; he became their anchor in the stormy sea of life.

It would be time for weekly nail cutting, ear cleaning, hair oiling sessions; amidst squeals and protests, he would pacify them singing, shohe na, shohe na, kande poranooo with dramatic eye movements and wild gestures, especially when they tried to tell him to stop, that had them rolling on the floor laughing.

Slowly but surely, the trio began to put the past behind them and move on. The girls taught him to laugh again, to live again; life had given him a second chance to bring up his two girls again, he just wished Sita could experience this life with him.
He took them to Benaras, BodhGaya, Hrishikesh and Haridwar; they went to so many places in their country, even remote ones where tourists don’t usually set foot.
They’d be lost in the world of Hanuman as he destroyed Lanka, they’d be crying as Ravana abducted Sita, they’d be deeply moved when Karna would be going to battle against Arjuna knowing he’d lose, they’d be fuming with anger when Duryodhana insulted Panchali and time would fly as dadu would read to them the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the Bhagvadgita and other sacred texts. The way he could tell the story, the simplicity, yet, the profundity in them, deeply touched the girls. Even while imparting knowledge from the Upanishads, he tried to make it as palatable as possible for the children, tell me how do you explain Tat Tvam Asi to seven year olds, yet not only did he try, it’d be fair to say, he succeeded too.

He could see his daughter Mita in the girls, different attributes of her visible in each girl.

He loved Nina’s poetry, she had rawness to her emotions, something primordial to the way she described reality even in that young age; surely poetry was to be her meditation and so it was.

The chotto ektakar shingara and the radhaballi,

Breathing furiously.

Inhabiting my Sundays, my frenemies.

She’d written this haiku, barely aged seven and it made him laugh. She’d captured something of Kolkata in those lines; she’d grabbed a slice of their times together as they strolled down Sarat Bose Road on sultry lazy Sundays.

It’s absolutely true that nowhere except Kolkata do you get that tiny shingara or samosa for one rupee, it has peas in it and the Bongs cannot have enough of it. And what of the Radhabollobi? Try it, you’ll see. You may get acidity, but it’ll be worth it, vouches every Bengali.

Rajani loved these girls like he had loved their mother, but being a very enlightened soul he treated them all alike, even Arunava, but at times he was left wondering as to where he went wrong with that one. But Mita was his pet; he had a special soft corner in his heart for his eldest.

None had his spiritual depth except Mita and this bonded them immensely, every time he saw her, his heart wanted to embrace her. Khuku, he called her, his little girl and she was so much like him.

“Aye khuku aye…” he would play this song in the gramophone and Hemanta’s voice would flood the house.

She had his striking peaches and cream skin and almond shaped eyes like the goddess Durga, with abundant tresses swimming down to her knees and an hour-glass body which was as ageless as Time itself and looked like some Kumartuli’s sculptor was sculpting Maa Durga from clay. Shakkhat Maa Durga, people would comment.

Yes, she was breathtaking! Her intellect was sharp; she was thoughtful, critically questioning and deeply analytical. Many an afternoon was spent in discussing literature, philosophy, poetry and the scriptures of all religions. Her father enjoyed immensely the display of perspicacity while she explained some particular issue, idea or philosophy, her face shining red with passion and emotion. What radiance! Then she fell in love with Shubho at Scottish Church English honours class.
It was an exam. John Osborne’s play, “Look Back in Anger”, was the monster in question and 100 marks were at stake. Mita had not studied this play and her paper sat blank. She spotted Shubho in front scribbling away with immense concentration. She poked him a few times. He looked back and couldn’t take his eyes off her. In a state of suspended bliss, he handed her the paper. She took it with a squeal of laughter which thrilled him to the bone, and began to rewrite it in her words.
Now let’s fast forward, SHUBHO and MITA are married in Kartik purnima, the full moon beckoned a life of abundance and plenitude for them.

As Mita adorns Shubho’s neck with the baramala and the shubhodristi happens where they gaze into each other’s eyes, it’s like a dejavu. The breeze outside caresses his hair while he stands there looking at her, she’s carried on a piri by her brothers, uncles and cousins and her eyes are between two paan leaves and in that moment they both knew that no matter what life would bring it would be worth nothing without the other.

Mita gets pregnant which turns out to be pretty complicated with twins sharing the same amniotic sac and placenta, throughout the seven and a half months, she’s under strict supervision and spends much of her time reading, writing and talking to her daughters. During the course of her seven month pregnancy she almost dies twice and the lives of the twins are threatened, but she manages to trick fate into submission.

These girls, they had to see the sky wearing the bright blue cloak of a spring day, they had to experience the rain on their faces, caressing sometimes or slapping away, soft some days and as pokey as thorns on others. They had to see the cheetah run, they had to eat tangra macher jhol, oh, life in its complexity and multitudes had to be experienced by them, she thought.
Karma my dear friends had other plans. Mita and Shubho die tragically young, leaving behind only Rajani to take care of the twins. Their disappearance happened in Kedarnath temple during an annual pilgrimage they always undertook.
Rajani had to don the parent costume once again, this time for Nina and Zeenia and he was determined to play the role to perfection this time. As perfect as it could be! So now to get back to the story. Dadu is what Nina calls Rajani, the Bengali appellation for grandfather.
As she sits in front of this dead body, she thinks of her dadu. He would know what to do; he always knew what to do. Such were Nina’s thoughts. Delusion arises from anger, Dadu told her one day as she was furious with Joida, the Oriya driver who had not given her a minute to stand and chat with her friends after her Rabindra-sangeet class at Dakshini, to top it off he had the gall to speak rudely in front of them.

The dominoes fell,

The words like torrents

It was inevitable.

She’d written this haiku she remembered for the occasion.

Joida loved her as his own daughter and that was the excuse for the harsh treatment. She had almost wanted to slap Joida. But Dadu intervened. “Little one your mind is bewildered by delusion. You think that Joi is being pushy, but actually he is just trying to protect you. See, you lost your reasoning as your mind was bewildered…and one falls down, when reasoning is destroyed.” Dadu fell on the floor dramatically.
That made Nina smile even in her malaise as she sat in limbo, with dried blood on her hands. She deliberated with the thought of saying, “Out, damned spot,” but then decided against it. The dead body just lay there. Her hallucinations where he wakes up as some terrible ZOMBIE in a B-Grade film and chews her down bone by bone is funny, she observes. I can have funny thoughts, even in this scenario.
Then she notices that there were many parts of her, or no, there are many Nina’s inside of her, ambiguous and confused, each thinking that random thought while observing the others and then she notices that there is a Nina who’s also observing, but she has no thought as the others did, no opinion. She just watches. Not for the first time Nina could distinctly hear the separate voices- how diverge, how contradictory, how ironic were they, but this time there was a force to them that was lacking in the past. She tries to swallow, but her tongue sticks to her insides, parched and dry, it desperately needs some water.
The young housekeeping attendant is right outside Nina’s room and would have turned away, but a trickle of blood manages to seep outside. The attendant examines it carefully, and then thinks of what to do. Should he go and inform his supervisor? No he decides against it and taking a master key from his supply trolley, he puts it in the key hole and turns it.

The scene which greets his eyes chills him to the bone and a blood curdling scream escapes his lips shattering the quiet of the early morn. He looks ridiculous, scared out of his wits, barely coherent in his thoughts, he looked like a two year old who had seen a ghost in a Paranormal series on telly.
It’s Nina who surprises me. She didn’t even bat an eyelid at the shrill shriek. She just sits there, stares at her abyss. What did she see?? The abyss staring back??

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Image is not mine. Not my copyright.